Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The maintenance hatch groaned as Becsul wrenched it open, revealing a darkness so absolute it seemed to swallow the dim light from the room behind them.
Melissa tightened her grip on Robbie, her son pressed securely against her chest in the makeshift carrier Wei-Lin had fashioned from spare fabric.
He was awake but quiet, his dark eyes watching everything with that alert curiosity that never failed to both amaze and terrify her.
Too young to understand danger, she thought. Old enough to sense it anyway.
“The tunnel network runs beneath the old city,” Becsul said, his voice pitched low. “It was built generations ago for emergency evacuations. Most of it has been sealed off or forgotten.”
“But not by you,” Wei-Lin observed.
“Not by me.”
He dropped down into the darkness first, his body disappearing from view. A moment later, a soft blue glow flickered to life—some kind of handheld light source—and Melissa could see the outline of a narrow passage stretching into shadow.
“It’s clear. Hand down the child first.”
Melissa hesitated for only a heartbeat before lowering Robbie into Becsul’s waiting arms. His large hands closed around her son with impossible gentleness, cradling him against his broad chest, and something in her chest unclenched at the sight. He’ll catch us, she thought. He’ll always catch us.
She dropped down next, her feet hitting packed earth with a muffled thud.
The tunnel was cramped—she could stand upright, but Becsul had to hunch his shoulders, his head nearly brushing the ceiling.
The air smelled of mineral dust and age, overlaid with something sharper. Machine oil, maybe. Recent passage.
Sarah came next with Katie, the girl’s thin arms wrapped tight around her mother’s neck. Then Wei-Lin, pulling the hatch closed behind her with a clang that echoed through the narrow space.
“This way.” Becsul transferred Robbie back to Melissa and took point, the blue light casting long shadows on the rough-hewn walls. “Stay close. The tunnels branch in several places, and some of the side passages are unstable.”
They walked in silence, the only sounds their footsteps and the occasional drip of water from somewhere overhead. The passage twisted and turned, sometimes widening into larger chambers where ancient machinery sat rusting in corners, sometimes narrowing until they had to walk single file.
Melissa found herself studying the back of Becsul’s head as they moved, the way his shoulders tensed at every junction, the constant alertness in his posture.
He moved through the darkness with confidence, clearly familiar with the route, and she wondered how many times he’d walked these tunnels before.
How many secrets this planet held that its own people had forgotten.
After what felt like an hour but was probably closer to twenty minutes, Becsul held up a fist. Everyone stopped.
“Wait here.”
He disappeared around a corner, the blue light going with him.
Melissa’s hand found Sarah’s in the darkness, squeezing once in silent reassurance.
Behind them, Wei-Lin’s breathing was steady and controlled—a soldier’s breathing, Melissa realized.
The woman had training. Military, maybe, or something close to it.
Light flickered ahead. Becsul’s voice, low but clear: “It’s safe. Come.”
They rounded the corner and found themselves in a larger chamber, this one occupied.
A Cire male stood beside a makeshift supply cache, his markings a darker green than Becsul’s, nearly black in the dim light.
He was older, Melissa thought—something in the set of his shoulders, the weathered look of his face—and he watched their approach with sharp, assessing eyes.
“Captain.” The word held respect, but also something warmer. Familiarity.
“Makram.” Becsul clasped the other male’s arm in greeting. “Thank you for coming.”
“As if I had a choice.” But Makram was smiling, his teeth white and sharp. “You saved my life twice during the Southern Campaign. The least I can do is help you smuggle some human females through the undercity.”
His gaze swept over their group, lingering on each face in turn. When he reached Melissa, something shifted in his expression—understanding, maybe, or recognition.
“So this is the one.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“I can see why.” Makram’s smile widened. “She has fire in her eyes. You always did appreciate fire.”
Melissa felt heat rise to her cheeks, but she held Makram’s gaze steadily. “Thank you for helping us.”
“Thank him.” Makram nodded towards Becsul. “He’s the one who spent fifteen years building a network of people who owe him favors. I’m just one of many.”
Fifteen years. Melissa filed that information away, adding it to the picture she was slowly building of the man she’d chosen as her mate. Not just a soldier, not just a captain. A leader. Someone who inspired loyalty, who collected debts and friendships with equal care.
What else don’t I know about you?
Makram produced a bundle from the supply cache—food, water, and something that looked like a small medical kit. “The next checkpoint is two hours through the southern branch. Kellan will be waiting. He’ll guide you through the industrial sector to the port access tunnels.”
“And the patrols?”
“Focused on the main entrances, just like you predicted. Naran’s people are looking for you in all the obvious places.” Makram’s expression darkened. “He’s put a substantial bounty on your head. Dead or alive.”
“How substantial?”
“Enough to tempt even loyal friends.” Makram met Becsul’s eyes. “Watch your back, old friend. Not everyone can be trusted when that kind of money is involved.”
Becsul nodded, accepting the warning with the same calm he seemed to accept everything. “We should move.”
They clasped arms again, and Melissa caught the way Makram’s grip tightened, the way his voice dropped when he said, “May your ancestors guide your path.”
“And yours.”
Then they were moving again, deeper into the tunnel network, leaving Makram behind in the darkness.
The southern branch was rougher than the main passage, the walls slick with moisture and the floor uneven with debris. Melissa’s legs ached from the constant walking, her back protesting the weight of Robbie against her chest, but she gritted her teeth and kept pace with the others.
Sarah was struggling too—Melissa could see it in the way she shifted Katie’s weight, the slight hitch in her breathing. But she didn’t complain, didn’t ask for rest. None of them did.
They were all too aware of what was at stake.
After another hour of walking, Becsul called a halt in a wider section of tunnel. “Five minutes. Drink something.”
Melissa sank down against the wall with a grateful sigh, adjusting Robbie’s position so she could reach the water container Makram had provided.
Her son was still awake, still watching everything with those bright, curious eyes, and she wondered what he saw when he looked at these dark tunnels, these strange faces.
What kind of memories were forming in his tiny mind.
None of this, she thought fiercely. I won’t let him remember any of this.
Becsul crouched beside her, his tail curling around her waist in that absent, affectionate gesture that had become so familiar. “How are you holding up?”
“I’ll live.” She passed him the water, and he drank deeply before handing it back. “How much farther?”
“Another hour to Kellan’s position. Then two more through the industrial sector before we reach the port access.” He paused. “It’s a long way. If you need to rest longer—”
“I don’t.” She met his eyes, willing him to see the determination there. “I can keep up.”
“I know you can.” His hand found hers, squeezing gently. “You’ve proven that a hundred times over.”
Something in his voice made her chest tighten. She thought about what Makram had said—fifteen years of building networks, of collecting loyalties. Fifteen years of making connections that were now helping them escape.
“Your friend,” she said quietly. “Makram. How did you save his life?”
“The Southern Campaign was… difficult.” Becsul’s expression shifted, shadows moving behind his eyes. “We were sent to secure a water treatment facility that had been overrun by raiders. Makram was my second-in-command. When the facility collapsed, he was trapped in the rubble.”
“You pulled him out.”
“It took three days.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, as if he were describing a routine supply run instead of a rescue mission. “By the time we got him free, both his legs were crushed. The medics said he’d never walk again.”
Melissa looked at him, really looked, and saw the weight of all those years pressing down on his shoulders. All those battles fought, all those friends made and lost, all those connections forged in fire and blood.
“You have a lot of friends,” she said softly.
“I have allies. People who trust me, who believe in the same things I believe in.” He paused. “Friends are… rarer.”
“And you’re leaving all of them behind. For us.”
He turned to face her fully, his black eyes intense in the dim light.
“I’m leaving a planet that has become a prison.
A government that has betrayed everything it was supposed to stand for.
A Council that would rather watch our species die than consider alternatives they find distasteful.
” His tail tightened around her waist. “You and Robbie aren’t something I’m sacrificing my life for.
You’re something I’m building a life around. ”
“But your network—all these people who owe you favors, who trust you—”
“Would have visited me in prison, perhaps. Written letters protesting my treatment. Maybe even organized protests in the capital.” His voice was dry, almost amused. “But they couldn’t have saved me from Naran’s justice. And they certainly couldn’t have given me what I want most in this universe.”
“What do you want most?”